Five Belchers and a Funeral
by Sillycritter
Summary: A Funeral gets Bob away from the Restaurant with his family, and it's not without a few forgotten memories and a couple of lessons learned along the way.
1. Bad News

**Disclaimer:** If I owned "Bob's Burgers" student loans would be a joke. Hence, I don't own "Bob's Burgers".

 **Author's Note:** This is my first "Bob's Burger's" fanfic so please be kind. Chapters will vary in length; this one is short because it is the introduction. Feedback is very appreciated and always welcome (including constructive criticism). I couldn't let this idea go, so, here it is...enjoy.

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 **INTRODUCTION:** "Sunday Morning"

It was a typical weekend morning for the Belchers: a hearty breakfast with the family at the table, and then a productive day of work at the restaurant. Gene, Tina and Louise were scarfing up their food as Linda worked up some more bacon in the pan for Bob, who was placidly reading the morning paper and quietly sipping his coffee.

Everything was pleasantly silent, nothing but the sound of the kid's semi-annoying munching, when suddenly Bob gasped, loudly, and knocked the cup of coffee, which spilled all over the newspaper he'd been holding. The newspaper slipped to the floor, but Bob didn't seem to notice; nor did he seem to notice the spreading dark brown liquid. However Tina, Louise and Gene definitely noticed and they all yelled in protest as their napkins and tablecloths were soaked with the bitter juice and started dripping off the table.

"Ew. Gross," Tina mumbled, frowning more than usual lifting her plate, and Gene, looking disgusted, shouted out as loud as he could, "I'd prefer to have my coffee in a mug like a _normal_ caffeine-addicted adult, THANK YOU!" but Louise was the only one who had stopped everything so as to take notice of the look on Bob's face: a look of absolute shock, devoid of any emotion. This was not like her father at all, and Louise, in spite of herself, was concerned. He usually reacted pretty strongly if he were to react. This was...this was just... _strange_.

"Dad?" Louise demanded, staring at her father with concern, and when Bob didn't respond, she went to pick up the tipped cup, and tugged lightly at his arm, but still, Bob sat stock-still, his eyes focused on something unseen, and Gene immediately joined the two, eyes perplexedly searching the empty spot on the wall his father seemed so captivated by. "You okay Dad?" Louise tried again. Again, no answer; her father was zombified. "Mom!" Louise hollared, "something's the matter with Dad!"

"Bob?" Linda joined her wide-eyed kids, who were gaping at their unblinking father. "Bob! Wha, what's the matter, Bobby?" She immediately went about cleaning the table, one hand wiping up the coffee, the other hand gently shaking her ashen-faced husband, but alas no avail.

"Dad's _possessed_!" Gene exclaimed, gasping in horror dramatically. "I'll go and get the straight-jacket!"

"Gene," Linda warned her son, who halted in his tracks as his mother again tried to shake her husband out of his stupor. She picked up the sopping-wet newspaper, her eyes falling on the page her husband was looking at, and saw the word: "OBITS". "Obituary?" Linda murmured, completely and utterly confused. "Bob?" she urged, pleading with her husband, as Louise and Tina stood by looking perpetually worried, afraid for their father, who had never acted like this before in their young lives.

To Linda's relief, Bob spoke, just as her eyes fell on the same part of the Obits he must have been reading minutes before, and his words brought her no comfort: "Oh my God…" Bob spoke to the wall with hardly any emotion in his voice, "he...he's... _dead_."

"Bobby? Please talk to me honey, who's 'dead'?" Linda had taken a chair and was sitting next to him now, her hands on his back, trying to console him.

Bob answered her with the same bleak expression and the same monotone voice. "My father is...dead," said Bob, and put his hands over his eyes.

"Oh my God Bobby I'm so so sorry-" Linda's eyes filled with tears as she hugged him, and Louise and Tina quickly gathered around and also hugged him.

Bob sat with his whole family around him, and he should have felt better, but all it did was make him feel like throwing up.

"Does that mean we're poor now?" asked Gene.


	2. The First Step

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Bob's Burgers". I am also not Bob Belcher. I also don't cook burgers. Glad we cleared that up.

 **Warning:** Some (mildly?) graphic images of decomposition. Won't be a frequent thing, don't worry.

 **Author's Note:** Sooo...here goes! First take at writing the Belcher characters. Hope they're in-character enough; anything feels out of place, please let me know! Feedback is welcome and much appreciated, especially constructive criticism! :) Each chapter will be centered around the "Five stages of grief" as Bob experiences it. Others will also. Grief is a personal process and everyone handles it differently. If you have any advice from firsthand experience and think it can benefit this story, or simply wish to share, send me a PM. I'm always free to talk! ~Sillycritter

 **CHAPTER ONE:** The First Step

Linda and the kids stayed like that, hugging Bob, until he said, voice muffled, "okay...mphf...you're suffocating me," and the arms of his family loosened their hold, and he was finally able to breath.

Linda looked her husband square in the eyes, wondering what the best thing to say to him was, and also knowing that nothing much could help. Even though Bob hadn't really been close to his father (to the point of their being an almost estrangement, save for the occasional calls of "Hey how's it goin" or "So I'm getting a colon inspection this Saturday", and Bob was just fine with that as it was. Then, they had managed to repair their relationship a few months back, around the holidays, to where they were communicating with each other a bit more via snail mail and more frequent check-in calls. Still, "Big Bob" of "Big Bob's Diner", as he liked to be called, was not exactly what you would call a "family man". He was more of a private individual, one who liked to keep to himself, basically hermit-like. (Thank goodness Bob didn't have the same personality or they never would have gotten married, much less dated in the first place.)

Bob wasn't exactly too emotional either, but he did get a little teary-eyed at times when the kids were successful in their endeavors (like Gene hitting a homerun, or Louise in the school play.) This, this was a whole new ball game. She might have had some idea if his mother hadn't died when he was so young (he had been only 2 or 3 years old at the time) and so she was not familiar at all with the situation. Bob had never really lost anyone else except for his mother and he had been too young for it to really affect him much. The major effect, Linda knew, was that Bob's childhood was different from most kids, as he was largely isolated from everyone else, as Bob had him work the grill most afternoons, so he never really got to be a kid. Linda often wondered how things would have been different, had Bob's mom been around and Bob had a more nurturing parent; he would have probably had a much better childhood. (Thankfully, Bob was a pretty great father, and though he sometimes misunderstood the kids' intentions or meanings, he tried, and that was the most important thing.)

"Bobby?" Linda asked as calmly and as casually as possible, "is there anything we can do?"

"Yeah Dad, anything at all," Tina added (it surprised Linda how grown-up she was being about all this; the kids had never lost anyone).

"I can't believe I have a dead relative," Louise was murmuring with awe, partly to them and partly to herself, staring off into space much like Bob had just done, "it just makes everything feel so-real," she added, and shuddered at the thought.

"Dad you're freaking me out! Does that mean I have to see a dead body?" Gene was horrified by the thought and was holding his head in astonishment. " _I'm too young to see a dead person's body_...do I have to kiss it!?"

"NO Gene," Bob snapped, and while this was a normal response to Gene's antics, this time it had a bit of a harshness to it, and Gene immediately settled down, and promptly looked confused. "Oh God," Bob muttered, standing up woozily and pacing about, "there's so much to do, Lyn…" He pinched his nose and cringed at the thought. "I gotta call Mort, and we gotta set up the funeral….so much paperwork….I guess we'll have him cremated….it's what he'd want…."

It felt so odd to be talking about his father in past tense. They had just spoken on the phone on Friday afternoon. His father had been talking about getting dentures.

"Oh Bobby, never you mind, I'll take care of all of that, you just-just get some rest!" Linda ordered her husband as she went for the phone.

"I can't rest," Bob mumbled, reaching for his hanging apron, "havta get to the restaurant….gotta get to work."

"Bob!" Linda stood in front of him before he could exit the kitchen. She was mad. "You're crazy Bob! You can't work right now," she insisted, hugging him around the shoulders and guiding him back to the table, "you need to go to bed!"

"Can't Lyn...I gotta work!" Bob pushed past her, ignoring how silent the kids were being, and, without a goodbye, rushed downstairs to the restaurant to start working and so that he could find some peace.

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Linda and the kids joined him shortly, and suddenly Bob was wishing it was a school day and that Linda was home sick.

"You really should be back upstairs Bob," Linda kept bugging him at every turn.

"Dad, did you know how long it takes for a body to fully decay?" Gene was asking him from over his shoulder as he turned over the hamburger meat.

"I don't care Gene," Bob whispered as cordially as possible through clenched teeth, but Gene didn't seem to hear him (or get the point).

"It can take YEARS!" Gene shouted, loud enough for the customers to hear, "and did you know what else, Dad! Corpses can FART! Did you know that, Dad? First the body stiffens, then everything starts turning to goo and because the body is bloated the gas gets pushed right out of the anus! THE ANUS! and then The body turns GREEN and YELLOW or a freakish BLACK or BLUE! And sometimes even the arms and legs will move! And THEN the-" Gene paused mid-sentence, looking up from his book about the human body to find his father's face curiously matching some of the colors he'd just mentioned.

"Uhhh….Dad? Why are you the color of rotting flesh?"

He didn't get any response as Bob had left, running and holding a hand over his mouth in order to keep himself from barfing. He barely made it to the bathroom where he lived up to his family name, only he was belching up all the contents of his breakfast in one fell swoop.

Next thing he knew Linda was pounding on the door shouting "Bobby? Bobby you okay?"

 _Why can't they all just let me be._

It was a selfish thought but one that flashed unabashedly through his brain as he sat by the toilet, his head still spinning, his throat and stomach aching and his eyes still seeing stars.

Then "The Peanut Gallery" arrived:

"Hey Bobby! Come on out for a hug from your ol' friend Teddy! I heard about your dad!"

Bob groaned.

"Hey Bob…." This voice was more full of concern than the last, but had an air of professionalism to it: "It's Mort, I was gonna have you come over and start some paperwork but, you just take all the time you need okay? I'll be in my office when you need me."

Bob groaned again and covered his eyes. All he wanted was to cook and not talk about his father for just one second. All he wanted was a normal Sunday just like every other day: get up, have breakfast, make burgers, go back upstairs, have dinner, spend time with Lyn and the kids, head to bed. It was a damn good life. Why did something like this have to go and ruin it?


	3. Frightmares

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Bob. And I didn't create him. And I don't sell burgers.

 **Author's Note:** Excpect some chapters to be relatively short. That of course doesn't mean they won't be full of feels. You have been warned!

 **CHAPTER 2: Frightmares**

It shouldn't have felt so hot, Tina thought, lying in bed. Why was she sweating? It was October, after all; she shouldn't have been sweating. And where was that strange smell of flesh coming from….? Tina's eyes popped open and her jaw dropped with horror: she wasn't in her bed, she was inside a-a-coffin! Tina screamed, long and loud, until finally she was back in her bed again, but, was she really back in her bed? she couldn't be sure. She was terrified. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

The family, everybody, including Bob, rushed into her bedroom, her mother quickly flicking the light on. "Tina!" Linda exclaimed, rushing over to her daughter, who was still trembling uncontrollably as she stiffly allowed herself to be embraced. "What's the matter Baby?"

Tina couldn't talk. Her heart had somehow found itself painfully lodged inside her throat.

"Is Tina alright?" Bob mumbled, rubbing his eyes and blinking against the harsh light.

"I dunno, she won't answer me," Linda replied with concern. Tina was still silent, whimpering a little, her body shivering against her mother's bosom. She still wasn't sure if she was in the bed or the coffin. "Aw, my poor baby had a bad dream," Linda soothed as she rocked her teenage daughter like she was a baby.

"You still have nightmares Tina?" Louise was staring at her sister in awe. "I haven't had a nightmare in _ages_! My last one was about me as a baby. My ears kept on running away and I was too little to stop them. Crawling doesn't really get you all that far ya know," Louise giggled trying to lighten the mood. "What was yours about?"

Tina just stared blankly at her sister. Her eyes stared straight through Louise as if she were a ghost. "Okaay...kinda freaking me out there," Louise said, backing away carefully as if Tina might explode, and turned towards her parents with a half-hearted shrug, "Good luck with that. _This_ one's waaaay out of my league."

"I have daymares," Gene remarked almost proudly, and then proceeded to play Tina's scream several times ad nauseum on his keyboard, to the point where Bob and Linda both swung around and shouted, "Cut it out Gene!"

"Okay, okay!" Gene pouted, but complied. "This is boring," he announced definitively, "I'm going back to bed!"

"I'm right behind ya, Cheech!" Louise quickly followed suite.

"Tina," Bob sat down on his daughter's bed, putting a hand on Tina's shoulder, "whatever it was about, you can talk to us."

"I...was in a coffin." Tina's voice was muffled, and her hands were over her eyes. "I couldn't breath. It was terrifying. I felt like I was suffocating. I'm so sorry Dad," she said at once wrapping her arms around her father, "I'm so sorry."

Bob's voice caught in his throat. His mouth moved like a fish out of water. He wanted to tell her _It's okay, you'll be alright, it was just a dream,_ like he normally would. Except for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say it. He thought of the coffin at Mort's morgue, the one he'd once found his way into drunkenly-the same one that he'd almost roasted in, if Mort hadn't walked in on the kids thinking the coffin was haunted and trying to send it into the incinerator. If Mort had walked in a few seconds later, he surely would have been toast.

"Bob," Linda said gently as she pulled Tina off of Bob and towards her, "you go back on to bed. I'll take care of Tina here."

"I didn't mean to wake everyone," Tina insisted guiltily, as Bob stood up stoically and headed for the door. "Dad!" she called out abruptly towards his reatreating back, her voice breaking slightly as she added haltingly, "I'm sorry. I really didn't want to upset you."

"He knows that, honey," Linda was saying as Bob retreated through the doorway. "He's just tired, is all. You can talk it over in the morning."

"Dad!" Tina wasn't convinced. "I didn't want to upset you Dad. Mom, please tell Dad that I didn't mean to upset him!"

Bob knew he should have stopped then and there and given his oldest daughter a hug, told her he understood, that it was nothing. Except, it wasn't nothing. It was everything all at once. And he simply couldn't deal.

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The next morning, Tina didn't come down for breakfast like she usually did before school. "I'll take it up to her," Bob volunteered. (It was the least he could do after how he'd handled the night before.)

With one hand holding a platter full of food, he knocked steadily on Tina's door with the other. "Tina? I've got your breakfast."

"GO AWAY!" came the muffled response.

"Tina I'm coming in," Bob declared, knowing that Tina never locked her door. He found Tina sitting in bed, staring glumly out into space, round dark shadows under her eyes. "God Tina did you sleep at all?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Tina replied stiffly. "Just put my breakfast on the table and go."

"Listen, Tina..." Bob lingered in the space between the doorway and the hall. "You've got to talk about it." _Talk about it._ Bob blinked at himself in disgust. He almost laughed at his own words. Talking was the last thing that he wanted to do either. "I know why you had that dream," Bob added coming over to place the food down before joining his daughter on the bed. "This is about you getting older right? Well I hate to say it Tina but we're all getting older-"

"That's NOT why!" Tina's increase in volume startled Bob into silence. "I'm not scared of getting older! That's not what my dream was about. I-" Tina scowled much like she did when she was a child (Bob couldn't help but smile a little, amused) and she turned away.

"Tina...why would you dream about being in a coffin?" Bob asked (not really sure that he wanted to know).

Tina still couldn't look her father in the eyes, but she did answer him this time as she took a shaky breath, "It wasn't a dream Dad. I was dead. And it's gonna happen to all of us. Me. Mom. Gene. Louise. And it's gonna happen to you someday too."


	4. Distance

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Bob's Burgers". This is just for fun...even though it's kind of an intense, morbid sort of topic...

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the long hiatus with this story! But "I'm baaa-aaack!" (and No, I'm NOT referring to "A Dinosaur's Story" even though I can sometimes feel old hahas), and this time, I hope to actually complete it, sooner than later~! Thanks for sticking with me-if you've liked the story so far, you "shouldn't" be disappointed! If you haven't already yet, before reading this story, I highly suggest you watch Season 5, Episode 6 "Father of the Bob" and for some more info on Bob's "crappy childhood", check out Season 3 Episode 3 "Bob Fires the Kids" for more "Bob's Burgers" fun! Enjoy! :)

 **PS:** If any of you have gone through what Bob's going through (and if you have my deepest condolences!) and you think this story could be more realistic (yeah I know it's a fanfic based on a cartoon, but I want to make it as realistic as a cartoon show-really for adults, mind you-possibly can), please send me a PM and let me know! I try to be as accurate as I can about these things! It's a sensitive subject. I really appreciate any advice I can get! :)

* * *

In spite of Linda's protests, Bob worked a full day at the restaurant, trying to keep his mind off things as he zoned out flipping burgers. There were just enough customers during the day to distract him, and in the evening, after they came home from school, the kids' chatter was just the right backdrop to keep intrusive thoughts at bay. On more than one occasion, Mort called telling him that the hospital morgue was ready for viewing and that they should leave sometime tomorrow so they could get to the next state over at a convenient time for everyone involved. (At this, Bob almost snapped back that there was never a 'convenient' time when you had to identify your father's body and prepare him for cremation, but he had quickly caught himself, realizing that Mort was simply doing the right things in a professional way.

The day passed overall without incident, and felt unexpectedly...normal. Customers came, customers went; the kids came through, the kids left. Linda seemed to get the message and generally left him alone to do what he wished. In spite of the news of the day before, Bob found himself feeling strangely...okay.

That night, however, Bob couldn't sleep. Instead of escaping into his dreams, he could only toss and turn, his mind running through over and over what the obituary said (or didn't say; there had been no cause of death mentioned anywhere on the page). He wanted to know, but he didn't want to know; he hadn't been close enough to his father to know what his health issues were, so he could only imagine what the possibilities could be. More than once he found himself getting up for a drink of water, and at least one time he gave into a quick brisk walk around the block to clear his head, but neither worked: he simply couldn't sleep.

At one point Linda woke to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed with the soft glow of the bedside lamp filling his side of the room, but the shadows seemed to still engulf him in spite of it. "...Bob...Bobby? You...you okay?" Without hesitation she sat up and moved towards him, but Bob didn't seem to even notice she was there.

"...Bob?" Linda was getting a little more than concerned now; she had never seen him like this and it was really worrying her. He was simply sitting there and staring out into space. Before she could hesitate, she lightly- so as not to spook him- tapped him on the shoulder. "Bob-are you okay?" she repeated again, trying to keep the fear out of her voice for his sake. (She wasn't doing a great job of it, unfortunately.)

"...Huh...?" As soon as her finger grazed his shoulder, Bob seemed to snap out of his stupor and he turned slowly towards her, but it was almost like he was looking through her-not at her, his eyes glassy and distant. "...oh, Lin. S-sorry, didn't see you there..." She watched him carefully as his eyes fled to the alarm clock on the nightstand. "God, what time is it-? Why are you still awake?"

Linda's heart sank, as she realized how lost in his head he must have been to ask such a question. "I've already been asleep for awhile, Bobby, but-but what about you? Have you gotten any sleep, any sleep at all?"

Bob groaned inwardly as he rubbed his tired eyes. "Ugh Lin. I wish." Gripping the sides of the bed as though he wanted to prevent himself from falling off of it, he could only shake his head with dismay and self-disgust. "I...I just..." Trying to avoid looking at his wife was almost impossible but he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. "I just...can't," he finished lamely, hating how stupid and pathetic he sounded. "Don't know how I'm going to do this...Mort wants to leave first thing in the morning..."

Suddenly understanding why he'd been up like this, Linda softly gripped her husband's shoulder for support. "I see." Her brow furrowed for a second as she thought hard, her face suddenly lighting up with an unusually optimistic delight, given the circumstances, and she smiled widely at him. "Bobby! I know! What about me and the kids come with? We'll all follow you in the car! We can stay at a hotel with a big indoor pool and-and everything! We'll make a day out of it, check out the sights-"

"It's _Connecticut_ , Lin," Bob sighed rigorously through his nose almost angrily and with annoyance, finding it hard to believe what his wife was suggesting. "It's not exactly as exciting like someplace like Florida. And this isn't exactly a safari. We're going there first strictly to identify and pick up my father's-" He halted as the words failed to finalize on his tongue, and suddenly he felt the need to stand up, which he did, so abruptly that Linda nearly fell back with surprise.

"Bob?" Linda attempted to direct his attention back to the conversation at hand, but Bob was already heading out the door.

"Be right back," her husband huffed over his shoulder as though he were already out of breath, "I've gotta go for a walk."

"What?" Linda exclaimed incredulously, "a walk? _Now_? But it's almost 2 am!"

"I'll _be!_ - _right!_ - _BACK_!" Bob hissed back at her intensely as he halted for but a short moment in the doorway, but only just long enough so that he wouldn't explode. Before he could change his mind, he'd grabbed his coat once again, and was down the stairs and out the door in a jiffy, at which point he broke into a swift and steady jog, picking the pace up quicker and quicker as he went along, finally finding some relief as the crisp autumn air broke through the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He jogged all the way to the pier, where he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Looking out at the ocean, a sense of calm seemed to pervade his bones, and Bob found himself a seat at one of the many benches lining the boardwalk. It was a clear cold night, with only a gentle breeze gently stirring the sea salt-tinged air. The moon was full and high in the sky, and the water seemed to sparkle with it, like a light in the darkness breaking through the shadows. The wide seemingly endless expanse of water stretched out before him, forever a reminder of how deep and dark and largely undiscovered so much of the ocean was.

As if from nowhere, an image of himself as a kid first learning the burger trade at his dad's diner flooded Bob's memory. It was like a punch to the gut, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push the image away. A soft mist grew steadily within the corners of his eyes, but he managed to keep them dry with a vigorous scrub at his retinas.

Tomorrow, he would visit his father. While they had just recently spoken, it had been two full years since he'd last seen his father in person (even though he was only about an hour away). Even then, it had been a tense visit...one that had somehow managed to soften the years of estrangement and neglect, and while perhaps not eliminate, at the very least were able to suppress the years of bitterness that had gradually built to rest between them. His father had-even in his own words-"never been easy to work with", OR live with. He was never someone that Bob could really look up to...and sometimes Bob had even wondered if his father had ever really even known him...

Even so, he'd continued the family business trade, with his own style, because it was what he knew-all those years, never having had the expectation of doing his father proud.

You never could expect to really do anything that would make "Big Bob" proud.

But there was that time-that ONE time-when his father had told him he was proud of him. Sure, he hadn't used the words "I'm proud of you," but he'd said it, all the same.

 _"You did great on your own,"_ he'd said that Christmas eve not so long ago, _"you should be very proud. You got happy kids. Weird, happy kids. That's nice."_ And then, he'd said something Bob never would have expected to hear: _"You're a good dad, Junior."_

Bob shivered slightly as his father's words echoed clearly in his mind's eye, so vividly it was as if he were sitting right there next to him.

But...was that really true? Was he truly "a good dad"? _Had_ he done his parents proud? Would his Mom-God rest her soul-have been happy with the person he'd become?

As if to answer, the wind whistled suddenly in cryptic code through his ears, picking up force in gentle swirls, swiftly and easily stirring the leaves as they gathered together at his feet. Suddenly realizing it was a heck of a lot colder than he'd expected, Bob slowly got to his feet and started to head back home.


	5. Departure

**Author's Note:** Get ready for a much longer (over 2,000 words) meaty chapter, which marks the beginning of departure for Connecticut to retrieval of Bob's father from the morgue. This story is Rated T for sensitive material involving: grief, death, and also grief-and-death-related anxiety, so if these are a trigger for you, please abstain or read with caution.

* * *

It took a bit of cajoling, but somehow Linda managed to sway Bob into allowing her and the kids to follow Mort's hearse (it was the only car he had) to Connecticut the following day.

The kids, of course, were thrilled to be getting a free day off from school (it was a friday), on the basis of having to go to a funeral the following Monday (it would take Mort a few days to prepare the body for cremation, and the urn would go in a burial plot in the closest nearby cemetery).

"I would have liked to have used the 'dead relative' card at least once before we actually _had_ a dead relative," Louise would later remark from the backseat on the way there. "It just doesn't give you the same, I dunno...thrill?...when you actually _have_ a-a...dead relative." She blushed when she saw Bob's eyes in the rearview mirror focused directly at her. "Sorry dad."

"That's fine, Louise," Bob shrugged it off, trying hard not to be annoyed by her insensitivity. "Just...try to remember this...isn't exactly a vacation."

"It WILL be one if **_I_** can help it!" Gene proclaimed in defense as he swung his legs back and forth excitedly. "I've got a duffle bag FULL of pool toys and I FULLY intend to use them!"

"OK Gene," Bob replied dully as he stared aimlessly out the window, not really watching anything in particular as the world sped quickly by.

"Dad...?" It was the first time in awhile that Tina had spoken, and Bob immediately shifted his attention over to his eldest daughter, who was watching him closely-perhaps, a little _too_ closely-and with obvious concern. "...do we, um..."

"What is it, Tina?" Bob shifted uncomfortably in his seat; the seat belt was always a little too tight, to the point of almost cutting off circulation.

"...we don't have to...um...uh..."

"Spit it out, Tina!" Linda demanded of her daughter.

"I just wanted to know do we have to see the body because I've never seen a body and I don't want to see a body and-"

"Woa, okay, easy, woa, there, Tina," Bob cut his daughter off abruptly, "Just slow down for me a bit there, Tina-" It seemed that even he had to catch his breath. "Nobody has to do anything like that on this trip except for me," he finally allowed, "It's just me they want to..." He tried again, unsuccessfully, to loosen the strap. "None...none of you are going to have to see the, the uh..." Again he shifted, the seatbelt was tugging at him mercilessly. "...the b..." Damn, that seat belt was bugging the living daylights out of him. "-the...body." He could feel Tina's eyes watching him like a hawk and he tried his best to ignore it. "Just..." Bob shut his eyes; he was suddenly feeling very tired, but he supposed it was due to lack of sleep the night before. "Just-stay back at the hotel with your mom...okay?"

"But what if we WANT to see the body?" Gene inquired without one moment of hesitation.

"Gene," his mother snapped, "there'll be plenty of more interesting, non-disturbing and NORMAL kid-like things to do back at the hotel."

"Nice try Mom-and since when do _we_ ever use the word 'normal'!?" Gene, not satisfied one bit by that answer, followed his indignant retort with a silent death glare out the window and pouted.

"Dad?" It was Louise who broke the silence by speaking up next.

"Yes, Louise." Bob was suddenly very thirsty, which was very unusual for him and quite strange. (Typically he drank a full glass of water when he got up first thing in the morning, but he couldn't remember if he'd had one or not, and his throat was suddenly-and almost painfully-dry.)

A long, pregnant pause followed, after which Louise asked (with an unnatural reluctance filling her voice that Bob wasn't used to hearing), "Have... _you_ ever been to a funeral, Dad?"

"Um..." Bob shifted again, and tried to swallow. The question had taken him completely by surprise and he wasn't sure exactly how to answer it. "Yes, Louise...but...it was a long time ago."

"Who was it?" Louise sounded genuinely interested, and Bob knew he couldn't avoid answering, no matter how much he didn't want to talk about it.

"...my mother, Louise-that is, to say-your grandmother." Bob forced himself to meet his youngest daughter's eyes in the review mirror. Louise didn't answer; her mouth was hanging open, shocked. Nobody else said a word-everyone knew that if there was one thing Bob refused to talk about, it was his mother. She had passed away suddenly when he was very young. It was common knowledge in the Belcher household never to mention her in his presence, as everyone knew that it would only upset him.

To everyone's surprise, it was Tina who dared to speak next. "What was her name again, Dad?" (Nobody except for Bob could ever remember.)

"Murial." Bob swallowed again, but it was hard-it felt like a golf ball was stuck somewhere deep inside his throat. "Her name was Murial."

"Wow, what a pretty name." For the first time since hearing about his father's death, Tina sounded genuinely happy about something. "Do you have any pictures of her?"

"...No." Again, he tried to swallow but again the golf ball seemed to get in the way. "We...we didn't really keep any of her pictures in the house," he added haltingly, "I-It was kind of a...a rule." Instead of explaining he continued quietly, "I...I had one. Once. But..." Again he stopped. "I think I may have...um...lost it, some...somewhere..." The golf ball was beginning to do something very strange-he didn't understand how this could even be possible, but it felt as though it was actually... _growing..._ "I guess..." Feeling suddenly very lightheaded and dizzy, Bob struggled to focus directly on the road ahead of him. "I guess it was just too hard for..."

He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat-as suddenly, without warning, everything around him began to feel as though it were moving far too fast. As Linda abruptly and unexpectedly changed lanes, the world around him tilted just as abruptly on its axis. All at once the golf ball expanded, and his stomach started to feel like it was going to explode. "Oh no-oh god-oh no-" Bob gasped as his hands searched desperately for something to grab onto. Finding nothing, he pitched forward and desperately hugged himself around the waste, his face turning pale as he rocked rhythmically back and forth.

Needless to say the rest of his family was alarmed by his actions.

"Dad! What's wrong?" Tina exclaimed with unmitigated fear in her voice. "MOM! What's wrong with Dad!?"

"Was it something you ate?" Louise attempted to politely offer one possible explanation.

"I think he's turning green!" Gene proclaimed with astonishment as the car continued to swerve and sway.

"Oooohhh crap..." Bob rasped out loudly from in between gasps, "Linda-you-you better pull over-"

"It's OK Bobby-you're gonna be OK," Linda tried to calm her husband as she swung hard to the right, where there just happened to be a food and fuel service station-one of the few that they had seen on the highway. Thankfully, Mort saw her turning and immediately followed the Belchers' car as Linda pulled quickly into the service station.

The car came to an abrupt halt in front of the sitting area, where there were a few old fashioned wooden picnic tables scattered randomly about on a well kept lawn. Bob was out of the car before Linda could even turn off the engine. Without saying a word he quickly located the closest wastebasket, where his stomach immediately rebelled against him, spewing the contents of his stomach into the trash can until his insides had no more to give, his throat sore and aching from exhaustion.

Everyone else tried to politely ignore what was going on in Bob's direction as they each respectively headed for the main building and the cafeteria. "I wonder if they sell chili dogs!" Gene exclaimed with far too much excitement, leading everyone else to groan with annoyance as they followed him inside.

Nobody had noticed that Louise had stayed behind as the rest of the Belchers disappeared into the building. She hadn't wanted to admit it to anyone else, but she was very worried about her father. Never before had she seen him get sick like that, and she had never known him to be one who got carsick. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt a little bit guilty about pressing the topic of his mother-even though it had been nice to learn her name, it had occurred to her that maybe funerals weren't the best topic to bring up when he was on the way to retrieving his father's dead body.

Before going anywhere else, Louise made sure to wave over at Mort (who was still sitting placidly in the front seat of his hearse, comfortably reading a newspaper, which he did often to pass the time). Returning her attention back to the task at hand, she then carefully retraced her steps back over to the car and the picnic tables, scanning the area in desperate search for her father. She found him sitting alone at one of the picnic tables that dotted the area. As she approached, she could still hear a bit of labored breathing, but she chose to ignore it as she hesitantly drew closer. When she was within arm's length, without a word of greeting, she stood next to him and held out her nearly full water bottle.

"What?" It seemed to take Bob a moment to realize she was there. When he saw who it was, he allowed himself to relax a little-it was just his daughter Louise. "Oh. H-hi, there, uh...Louise."

"Thought you could use some-a the good ol' cold stuff," Louise added with halfhearted optimism as she continued to hold out the water bottle to him, trying to keep the full amount of sympathy she was feeling for him out of her voice (like herself, he detested any gestures governed by pity). "I'm trying to reduce the possibility of needing bathroom breaks," she added carefully for good measure.

"Ah...thanks...you, uh, don't have to..." But he took the bottle anyway, and took a few small sips. His stomach was still angry at him for before, and he was finding it difficult to calm the restless beast down.

As he was sipping the water, Louise took it upon herself to hop onto the bench beside her father, who didn't protest; they sat there in silence for a moment, watching the leaves dancing on the midday breeze. After a couple of minutes Bob noticed his daughter was shivering a little. "Cold?" he asked her, at which she nodded; he immediately removed his overcoat without being asked and put it gently around her shoulders.

As a wordless thank-you, Louise turned and gave him a partially raised smile-she didn't really ever fully smile, it was kind of a thing that Bob had never tried to understand (all of his kids were kind of weird). "I'm hungry," she announced matter-of-factly.

"Where are the others?" Bob asked in response, suddenly noticing that they were the only ones left outside.

"Gene demanded that we get fast food. They're all inside the cafeteria wolfing down burgers and hot dogs and-" Louise blushed as she remembered her father's weak stomach and what he'd just gone through; also, she hoped he hadn't noticed the fact she'd mentioned that his family was probably eating someone else's burgers. "-er...sorry. I mean...probably just hot dogs. Burgers at these places usually suck."

Bob half-snorted in disgust and rolled his eyes. " _Language_ , Louise."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Louise grinned, "these babies _reaaaally_ taste shitty!"

"LOUISE!" Bob barked in spite of his sore throat. He might have been annoyed, but in reality Bob couldn't help but smirk back at his daughter, who grinned back at him sheepishly in return. "So..." Bob heaved a short sigh and forced himself to his feet-finding that, much to his surprise, he could stand. "...wanna get some corn dogs to go?"

"Corn dogs?!" Louise stuck out her tongue, looking horrified, "BLECH!"

"Better than truck stop burgers," Bob snickered softly as he held out his hand to Louise, who immediately hopped off the bench and took her father's hand in his own, joining him as they walked steadily in the direction of the main building.

"Yeah, cuz they're not OUR burgers, and they're the BEST, BABY!" Louise exclaimed loudly, as she thrust up her fists in excitement and with unabashed glee.

Bob couldn't help but smile at that. Suddenly his stomach felt much lighter, and he found the smells floating in his direction hugely appealing. _Nothing wrong with a bite,_ he thought simply and confidently, as he followed his daughter inside.


End file.
